


shotgun poetry

by penisparker



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Cute, Dogs, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 08:51:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6368104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penisparker/pseuds/penisparker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I have a dog,” Frank says as soon as Karen steps into her car. </p><p>“You have a dog,” Karen repeats.</p><p>(alternative title: the one with a dogge and a hug)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. a dogge

“I have a dog,” Frank says as soon as Karen steps into her car. She doesn’t jump, because she’s used to it. She looks over at him, and is pleased to only see one shiny purple bruise on his right cheek.

“You have a dog,” Karen repeats, starting the car and pulling away from the Bulletin. She really wants a cup of coffee and she also really wants Frank to get out of her car before he invites himself to have a cup (or two, or three) with her. “What’s it’s name?”

“Her name is Jones.”

“Jones?” Karen’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, which makes Frank smile, for some reason. Frank’s smile makes her smile back, if only because he never smiles so when he does, Karen likes to indulge in it.

“Jones. I know a lady.”

“Like, biblically?” She asks unthinkingly, slowing in front of a diner to see how many people are inside. It’s surprisingly empty for a Monday morning, so she parks right in front and turns off the engine. She curses herself for failing to get Frank out of the car before finding a place, and then turns toward him, just in time to see his scowl. Karen can’t help but laugh. “Okay, I get it, not biblically, the Punisher never feels attraction.” Her eyebrow quirks, and she tilts her head at Frank’s eye roll.

“I’m goin' to be gone tomorrow. All day, and I need someone to watch her while I’m gone.”

Karen blows out a sigh, opens the car door. “I don’t know if you know this, but I’m an upcoming journalist and I am up to my neck with things I need to research and check out for my next article.” She steps out, nods decisively at a sudden thought. “You’re paying.”

“Ma’am,” Frank starts, stepping out of the car, catching up with her and holding the door open for her as she steps into the diner. “I know you have a job and you’re a big deal, but I need this.” His voice goes hoarse, and Karen suddenly feels like she needs more than just coffee to keep it together. “Please.”

And isn’t that the magic word? Karen sighs, sighs again. “Fine.”

\---

Jones is a gray pitbull, and she barks a lot. A lot. “You said all day? Am I getting something out of this?” Karen asks immediately, patting Jones all over in efforts to get her to quiet down. She smirks once Jones’ stops, and then frowns because she realizes she’ll have to do this all day.

“My thanks?”

Karen drops the leash like it’s caught fire, and Frank sighs. “You want money? Is that what you want?” He reaches for his wallet, and Karen actually groans. She _hates_ this guy.

“No, I don’t want your blood money.” Frank actually laughs, which melts Karen’s heart a little. “I want something that will last forever.”

“Money can last forever, if you save it,” Frank says, and Jones barks, as if in agreement. She feels a headache coming on.

“I’m talking emotionally. I want something emotional that will last in my mind forever.” Karen spreads her fingers wide, as if she’s painting a picture that Frank will somehow understand. Maybe he does, because his face tightens and he shifts imperceptibly.

“What, you want a…” he pauses, breathes. “Like a hug, or somethin’?”

“Exactly! I want a hug. A minute long hug.”

“For taking care of Jones _all day_ , you want a hug. Does that seem right to you?”

“That seems exactly right to me. When’s the last time you hugged someone, Frank?” Karen asks, and she can see the moment Frank freezes, the moment where Frank wants to shut down but can’t, not in front of her. Not anymore.

“Central Park,” Frank says, his voice cracking under the pressure of the moment. “I hugged her before she went onto the carousel.” They both are silent, taking in Frank’s grief and pain. The moment consumes them, until it doesn’t. Karen nods, and smiles, a small one, one to signify the end of the moment. 

"Well, now you can change that. _That’s_ worth taking care of Jones all day. Now get out of here, go do...whatever.” She knows exactly what whatever is, but the less she thinks about it, the better she feels. Or the better she thinks she feels, but isn’t actually. They should maybe talk about this, one day, when they don’t need each other so much. Frank tips his hat, once.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he says, and leaves her with a dog that resumes barking as soon as Frank closes the door.


	2. a hug

“So, Lorenzo,” Karen says with a smile, scratching Jones behind the ears. Taking care of Jones got easier as the day went on and they came to an understanding. Karen knew that Jones was a dog that felt like she had something to prove, so she barked a lot. Behind the bark, though, was one of the sweetest dogs that she had the pleasure of taking care of. Not that she’s taken care of numerous dogs, or anything. “You’re telling me that your mob had nothing to do with the stacks of cocaine found at the warehouse on 151 st ?”

Lorenzo sniffs, looks away from her. Jones sniffs too, starts whining. That’s Karen’s first sign that he’s about to tell her some bullshit. Or a half-truth. “Nah, we ain’t got nothin’ to do with that.”  


“Do you know who _might_ have something to do with it?”  


“No,” he says, looking her straight in the eye. Karen smirks, pats Jones lightly on the back. Jones rushes toward Lorenzo, barking viciously, spit flying everywhere. Karen’s never seen a grown man so frightened in her life, and she can’t help but laugh a little, hiding her laugh behind her hand. Lorenzo jumps, falls, and scrambles backward. Karen feels awful for his suit, getting dirty in the alley that they agreed to meet at. “Okay! Okay! Call off your dog, please! I got a kid!”  


“C’mere Jones, I think he’s had enough.” Karen beams at Jones, who returns with a waggy tail. She’s definitely Frank’s dog. “You were saying?”  


“We ain’t have a part in that warehouse, but the Cartel does. They control everythin’ in there, the cocaine, the heroin, all of it.” Karen already knew this, but she needed on the record confirmation from someone who knew the business like the back of his hand.  


Karen nods, understanding. “I’m going to need...pictures,” She mumbles. Her exposé on the return of the Cartel to Hell’s Kitchen is proving to be more difficult than she imagined; she can’t just walk into the warehouse and take a selfie with a stack of cocaine. It would be easier to sneak in if she didn’t have...Jones. Karen looks over at the dog, who’s lying on the ground patiently. Maybe… “Look, Lorenzo, we’re done here. Thanks for the help! I hope you know everything you said is on the record, but I won’t use your name or anything.”  


“Whateva’, lady.” He wipes himself off the best he can, and walks out of the dark alleyway and into the light, looking a little worse for wear. Karen crouches down and stares at Jones straight into her eyes.  


“Listen to me, Jones.” Jones barks her attention, and Karen nods in appreciation. “I need a couple pictures for my article, and I know what you’re thinking, you’re thinking, Karen, what the hell? You don’t need to do that, you’ve got enough proof as it is! But, I have something to prove, Jones. I want my readers, I want New Yorkers to know that I work hard, that I deserve this job, that I’m not just some bullshit rookie. That I can do everything, y’know?” Jones barks again. “So here’s what I need you to do. I need you to be really, really quiet. A tall order, I know, but I really think you can do it. You understand?” Jones does nothing for a while, but eventually wags her tail, and Karen blows a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Jones. It means a lot to me.”  


The warehouse is drenched in the hazy orange, pink, and purple hues of the sunset by the time Karen arrives there, dressed in all black with a hoodie up to cover her tell-tale blonde hair. She carries her camera tightly in her hand as she scurries to the side of the building, looking up at the sky in relief when she isn’t spotted. “Now I just have to get inside, take a couple pictures, and get the hell out of here,” she mutters to herself, watching for an opening. A burly man opens the door wide, and she waits until he’s entered to run toward the door and slide inside unnoticed. What greets her when she enters has her eyes widening, her hands tightening reflexively on the camera, itching to take a picture.  


There’s cocaine, and people packing them into backpacks - she crouches low, immediately, and hides behind a crate that is undoubtedly filled with stuff that’ll be in the streets tomorrow. She puts her head up only when the coast is clear and starts to snap pictures, quickly and efficiently. Jones is blissfully silent, and Karen almost forgets she’s even there until she gets a nudge. “What?” Karen hisses to the dog, who gives her a look that is remarkably similar to a glare. Jones then proceeds to nudge her, looking to her left, which is when Karen turns her head slowly, and sees a cartel member headed toward her crate.  


“Time to go, Jones,” she whispers, and they sneak out soundlessly.  


\---

When Frank comes back, slipping quietly into her apartment, Karen’s typing up her exposé, papers spread all around her, Jones asleep and drooling on some of them. Frank feels a smile coming on, so he turns his head away from the sight and coughs instead. Jones wakes up immediately at the sound, and rushes toward Frank. Frank kneels down, petting Jones all over. “Hey, girl. Ma’am?”

Karen looks up from her laptop, smiling. “Yeah?”  


“Thank you for takin’ care of my dog.” He puts on Jones’ leash with admirable speed and and starts walking toward the door. Karen jumps up, her laptop landing loudly on the floor and making Jones bark, repeatedly. Frank sighs.  


“I don’t think so,” She says, enunciating every word. “You owe me a hug, Frank.”  


“That I do,” he says, turning back toward her. “Am I comin’ to you, or -” He pauses. “I haven’t hugged anyone in a long time, so I don’t -”  


Karen takes that moment to move toward him and wrap her arms around his neck, burying her head into his shoulder. She takes in a breath, and so does he, both startled by the rightness of it. Like it was a hug long overdue, a hug years in the making. Frank’s arms wrap around her, and he’s hugging her so tight that she’s feels her feet lift off the ground, a little. “I told you, you needed this,” she whispers into shoulder.  


“Somethin’ tells me you needed this, too,” He whispers back, into her ear. The hug lasts longer than a minute, long enough for Jones to stop barking, tucking herself in beside the both of them and sleeping again. Jones starts drooling on Karen’s foot, and that’s when Karen pulls away, patting Frank on his bruised cheek. He bristles, but he still holds onto her, like she’s a lifeline.  


“You could be right. Possibly,” She says lowly, and clears her throat. “So. If you want to drop Jones off again, you can.”  


“Is the payment in hugs?”  


“No, I’m a journalist. I’ll ask for cash eventually,” Karen says, and Frank laughs, putting her down. Karen reaches down to pat Jones, who wakes up and heads to the door, ready to go. “Bye, Frank.”  


“Night, ma’am,” he says, saluting her and walking out the door, into the night.    


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had fun writing this, and thank u to @notheothererin for giving me the inspiration to write this!!!
> 
> p.s- i added the hug because i think frank and karen both need one so why not with each other

**Author's Note:**

> WOOOOOOOO


End file.
